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[It's strange that wearing something other than his spandex ensemble would make him feel more naked in public, but there it was. Wade always was a master of contradictions. Even with the image enhancer in place, which gives him the appearance of what he'd looked like years before the cancer, the absence of cloth covering his face is enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable. But this place has recently opened, and he supposes they're not exactly used to costumed superheroes traipsing right on through. Not yet, anyway. Give it a few weeks.

As he sits there, alone in an unfamiliar Indian restaurant after waving away the waitress for the second time, he once again entertains the notion that he's been stood up. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened to him, and it's not as if he was prepared to make a big deal out of today anyway. After all, he's had tons of birthdays come and go without incident in his lifetime. What's one more?

Still, something causes him to keep glancing over at the entrance, waiting for a familiar face to come walking through. There must be some reason he keeps waiting, some reason he keeps holding back from eating a solo dinner and leaving to resume the festivities in the solitude of his apartment. It may seem pathetic and more than a little schmaltzy, but this is the first time Wade's ever had a chance to share this day with someone else in quite a long time.

He supposes that's worth waiting for, even for just another five minutes.]

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[Travis snorts.] C'mon, man, I'm not that delicate. If it makes you feel better, though, I'll stick around.

[Excuses, excuses. Not like he'd have said no if Wade hadn't been worried about him. (Not like he's very reluctantly thrilled to have Wade worried about him in the first place.)

He keeps mostly quiet, though, until Wade turns it around and asks how he's doing. The reversal's almost cute. He chuckles.]

Yeah, m'good. [Standing, speaking, and conscious is a well enough start to "good" that he figures he can answer that honestly.] Mostly. I, uh, didn't actually check everywhere I got hurt, so I might need to actually take care of that once we get there...

[The elevator doors slide open, sure enough.]

[Wade motions Travis in before getting in himself, pressing the button for the fourth floor.]

Don't worry, I'll do a routine check on you if you want. I know enough about injuries and whatnot to know if something's gonna be potentially dangerous, even if it's not gonna be dangerous for me.

[He pauses, his mouth quirking.]

You might have to take your clothes off, though. Not that it probably matters-- I mean, they seem to have a way of coming off whenever I'm around anyway, right?

[The elevator doors close, but not before Wade hears the sudden choked noise of surprise coming from the desk clerk.]

[Travis pauses. On one hand, he's pretty sure he's fine, and he can hold his own just fine, thanks, but on the other--

Ouch, okay, weird pain in his side; he winces a little. Travis breathes a sigh and nods, a little reluctantly.]

Uh, sure. Thanks.

[He's a little flustered by the idea of being taken care of. Until somebody else's awkwardness makes him feel way, way better about himself.]

Jesus, Wade, you're sure as hell not shy about all of this, are you? [He's enjoying it, though.]

[Wade laughs, a bit too loudly considering the enclosed space they're in, and points a wobbily finger toward Travis. After, of course, he regains his footing as the elevator lurches upwards. Goddamn thing was always contrary. Because that's what's caused him to stumble in the first place. Totally. Really.]

Your goddamn fault, dude. 'f you weren't such a dile-- deli-- delec-- [oh, fuck it] such a tasty dish I'd probably be able to control myself better.

Anyway. Not like I ever heard a complaint outta you all those times before or anything. In fact, I seem to remember you doing the exact opposite. Pretty vocal about it too, if memory serves.

[...Wow, Wade's drunk. Travis laughs. He's never the more sober one, ever.]

Just a comment! [He shrugs.] Like I'd complain about--

[Ding.] Well, anyway, we're here.

[Travis eyes Wade hesitantly.] And I thought I was the one who'd need help getting around. [He moves Wade's arm so the other man's leaning on him again and starts to move into the hallway.]

[Wade glowers at him, but without the mask on and as drunk as he is, the scowl looks less like Clint Eastwood and more like... well, whatever the opposite of Clint Eastwood is.]

Better not hear a complaint outta you, bucko. That was some high quality sex-giving right there. I should get a fuckin' award or something.

[Still, he has the presence of mind to accept Travis's shoulder when it's offered, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist to steady himself. If that hand starts to slowly move down Travis's hip it's only because he's trying to get a better grip.

Well okay, that and he's feeling cheeky. Luckily the apartment isn't too far from the elevator.]

[Snnnrk. Appropriately, he can't take Wade seriously at all right now.]

Uh huh. A fucking award... for fucking. [Good job, Travis. You're hilarious.]

[Cool it, Romeo. Or, well, don't. Travis doesn't mind the wandering hand and doesn't show a sign of being bothered by it.]

Want me to get it? [He holds his hand out to Wade for the keys. And vaguely wonders which pouch he keeps 'em in.]

[Fortunately for Travis, Wade's hit that drunken stage where everything's hilarious, and so he awards Travis a few seconds of raucous laughter at his terrible attempt at a pun.

Still, he's somehow retained enough of his senses to know that he definitely won't be unlocking his apartment door without help, and so when Travis holds out his hand, he reaches into his pocket and hands it over as easy as you please. (And it would've been the pouch at his hip, Travis. That's where he keeps all his keys.)]

Okay, okay. But don't think you're gettin' out of an examination so easily, mister. I saw the way you flinched a little when I grabbed you.

Edited 2013-06-18 05:04 (UTC)

[As the last of Wade's laughter dies off, Travis snickers to himself and fumbles with the keys. He gets the wrong one once or twice, but eventually they make it in.

This place is starting to get very familiar to him. It's a nice realization.]

By the way... [He's finally stopped seeing freaking Van Wilder when looking at Wade's face, but it's still been nagging at the back of his mind the whole night--] When are you gonna turn that thing off? [He gestures to Wade's watch.]

[Wade isn't sure why he's so surprised by the question-- after all, it had to have come up sooner or later. It's not even that he's surprised by it. Not really. He feels strangely nervous; hesitant, though he's got no idea why he should be nervous. It's just an image enhancer, right? Not like Travis has never seen his real face before. He forces out a chuckle.]

What, sick of me bein' the one to draw all the ladies' attention? Didn't know you were the type to get jealous, Trav.

[Don't do it, Travis. It's stupid and sappy and you're slightly drunk and you ~~really really like this guy~~ are going to embarrass your friend with it and--]

It's just.

[Shit. It's too late. The words are there.]

We're not outside anymore, you don't really need to... hide your face from me or anything.

[He JUST manages to keep "because I thought it was all right from the start" in. Nope. Too gay.]

[And that stops him cold. The smile on his face wavers.]

You--

[He cuts himself off before he can say any more. He doesn't even know how he would finish that sentence. The awkward silence seems to stretch out for minutes instead of seconds, and he finds himself missing his mask. Hiding his scars is not the only reason he wears it, after all.

Wade's tongue darts out nervously to wet his lips, and he presses them together in a tight grin, hoping beyond all hope that Travis is too drunk to notice his little slip-up.]

Heh. Well, if you're gonna get all sentimental about it...

[He presses a few invisible buttons on the watch, and the image shimmers and fades. Wade chuckles again.]

There. Transformation complete. Regrettin' it yet?

[...shit. That sounded too disparaging. He awkwardly clears his throat and changes the subject. This is about making sure Travis is okay, after all. Not his little insecurities. He can deal with those later. Much later.]

Here, why don't you... have a seat over there? [He waves his hand in the direction of the kitchen table.]

I'm just gonna get some things real quick. Won't be long.

[And before Travis can utter a reply, he's heading off-- a little unsteadily-- to the bedroom.]

There we go.

[That's the Wade he knows. The way that he falters doesn't quite register with him, though Travis does sense, sort of remotely, that something's a little bit... off.]

I think you're overestimating how much I like Ryan Reynolds, man.

[And cracking a joke doesn't seem to solve Wade's problem. He's never been good at these awkward silences, either, so he mutters a small sound of agreement and sits where he's told.

As soon as he hits the seat, he breathes a tired sigh.]

Damn.

[It's almost been too eventful of a night for him. Hopefully Wade hasn't tripped over himself or anything-- it's going to take a lot to get Travis out of this chair.]

[To Wade's credit, he only has to stop once to realign himself as he makes his way through the bedroom. It's okay, sometimes the floor likes to tilt every once in a while. Especially when he's been drinking this much. Not a big deal.

He manages to reach the adjoining bathroom without too much trouble (although the mat trips him up and nearly makes him fall into the sink-- he briefly entertains the idea of setting it on fire as punishment) and opens the medicine cabinet, gathering the emergency first aid kit on the first shelf.

The first aid kit was a leftover from the last occupant of this apartment, and since Wade never needed to use it for anything, it just stayed in that one spot. Several times he'd thought about throwing it out, but never actually got around to doing it for some reason or another. Now, he's secretly grateful that he never actually followed through on his numerous plans to be rid of it. At least it was getting some use after all this time.

He shuts the medicine cabinet, doing his very best not to look in the mirror as he does so (he finds that he's less self-conscious when he doesn't know what he looks like) and once again makes the wobbly trip back to the kitchen and Travis.

He grins as he approaches, lightly shaking the first aid kit as if it's a box of candy.]

Lookee what I found~! Don' worry about a thing, okay Trav? Doctor Wilson's gonna take good care of you.

[A pause.]

Wanna take your shirt off? We still kinda need to... assess the damage here.

[He chuckles.]

Well, Doc, you got your work cut out for you.

[Travis pulls his shirt up over his head without any hesitation: after a few years of getting into scraps for pay and even more years of doing it for free, he's not shy about baring himself like this. Not when there's obvious wounds that need to be taken care of.

And obvious wounds there are. Travis' torso is very quickly turning several fetching shades of bruised. There's a long cut along his side that's still dripping blood: shallow, but very present.

He blinks and looks down at himself.]

...Huh. You really do. Didn't think it was this much of a mess.

[Wow.

Even disregarding the healing factor, bruises don't exactly show up too clearly on skin already covered with scars, and so Wade has forgotten just how colorful the human body can get when it's wounded-- various shades of green and blue and purple and black. Some red in there too, if you count the blood.

Aside from the cut on his side, the other injuries don't seem too bad, but Wade has learned from experience that appearances can be deceiving. He'll have to at least check to see if there are any broken ribs underneath all that bruising. Can't be too careful, after all.

His eyes rove over Travis's body, taking note of all the areas he'll need to examine: those strong-looking shoulders, that firm chest; those subtle stomach muscles that become visible every time he takes a breath--

...Fuck. Wade swallows hard and struggles to keep on track. Drunk and horny is never a good combination, especially when he's got an injured buddy to take care of. He offers Travis another quick smile.]

Nothin' I can't deal with. I've seen much worse, believe you me.

[He opens the first aid kit without further ado, using the small bottle of peroxide to soak one of the cotton swabs. He immediately applies it to the shallow cut on Travis's side, using what he hopes are gentle strokes.]

Sorry if this hurts a little. Doin' the best I can under the circumstances.

[Travis doesn't flinch at the peroxide, but the grimace on his face and the hiss of him sucking the air in through his teeth is enough to show that it doesn't feel great.]

Ngh... shit, forgot how that stings.

[He casts Wade an uneasy expression.] Gotta grin and bear it though, right? Don't want you to think I'm some sorta-- ow, ow, watch the big bruise there-- some sorta punk amateur, right?

[Don't think Travis doesn't notice those wandering eyes, Wade. He's not shy about that either, but... when he's spotted purple and black and blue isn't exactly the right time. Still, he's enjoying the attention, for reasons that he's beginning to realize are entirely unsexy.]

Thanks again for this.

Pfff... amateur, no. Punk, maybe. How else're you gonna explain that hairstyle, huh?

[The cut's long and pretty ugly, but at least it's shallow. Still, Wade figures it could do with a dressing. He takes some gauze out of the kit and applies more peroxide to it before pressing it firmly against the wound. He wraps a bandage around Travis's body to hold it in place, finally shrugging as a response to the other man's thanks.]

You don't have a healing factor. What kinda drinking buddy would I be if I just let you lie there an' bleed?

Hey. The hair works for me, all right? Don't knock it.

[He doesn't sound entirely offended, though. Travis gives the bandages a light touch, checking to see if it's secure. (It is-- very. Wade's pretty good at this.)]

And if that was the case, I wouldn't have come with you in the first place.

This was, uh.

This was fun.

[Wade's fingers hesitate over Travis's sides. He still has to make sure Travis doesn't have any broken ribs and internal bleeding, but his sudden shift in tone has surprised Wade. He lets out an awkward chuckle, his lips quirking in an embarrassed smile.]

This is, uh... this is usually par for the course with me, so it's always fun. But, uh... it was nice. Havin' someone to share it with, I mean. For once.

[He hadn't meant to add that last bit. Wade's never been too good at keeping his tongue in check under normal circumstances, and alcohol only makes the problem worse. He supposes that's just another thing he and Travis have in common. Wade clears his throat and begins the task of examining Travis's sides, fingers gently probing and searching for anything out of the ordinary.]

Lemme know if anything hurts, okay? Like, not in a bruised way or anything-- I mean if it really hurts.

Same. Not like I've got a whole lot of people to hang out with in the first place-- not that that makes it any less, uh.

[He's spouting such bullshit right now. Wade's not helping, with his feelings and his hands doing things, and--]

I-- [Travis' voice nearly catches in his throat.] I'm okay. Pretty... pretty great, all things considered, really. Don't worry 'bout me, I just hope I gave you an all right birthday, if you don't get to do this kinda thing often.

[Wade is close. Way too close. If his chest keeps doing these stupid flips, he swears he'll punch through it again himself.]

[Wade's grin turns sly, though he doesn't look up from his ministrations. Making sure your buddy doesn't need to go to the hospital is serious business, okay.]

I dunno. Does having a nice dinner, drinkin' yourself stupid and pickin' several fights while havin' a bro to back you up count as an "all right" birthday to you? 'Cause that's pretty much a recipe for an awesome birthday to me.

[His grin fades as he turns momentarily serious.]

...Thanks, by the way. For, uh... makin' it memorable.

[Dammit, inebriation. Stop making him sound ridiculous.]

You're welcome.

[Travis Touchdown's never really been the conscientious type, evidenced by the fact that he's friends (and then some) with Wade in the first place. He doesn't think things through before he does them, and he never has-- probably never will. Not entirely.

But kissing a guy on impulse has, after all, done good things for him before, hasn't it?

Travis leans forward and kisses Wade. He'd been intending something a little more intense, when the idea'd first crossed his mind a couple hours ago: drunk, reeling from the rush of a bar fight (or three), he was supposed to downright pounce the guy, fuck him as stupidly as he'd done the first couple times. He hadn't been bandaged and aching then. He's also got less room to move. (Like he wants Wade's hands off him right now, anyway.)

It's a small gesture. Simple. His lips linger for only a little while. And just like that, he leans back into his chair again.

Travis finds himself staring at Wade, as bewildered as if he was the one who'd been kissed out of nowhere. There goes the whole "don't turn this into anything date-y" idea: he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do next.]

[Before Travis makes his move, there's a bit of awkward silence in between them... or so it seems to Wade. He lets out another embarrassed chuckle-- man, how many has that been so far? He should keep a record.]

Heh. Sorry. Didn't mean to kill th--

[And then he finds that his words are stolen from him. The sound he makes is soft, muffled by Travis's mouth. Time seems to stretch out-- god, it sounds like such a cliche, but the seconds that pass between when Travis's lips touch his and when he finally pulls away seems almost infinite. Wade opens his eyes when Travis parts from him, and even that surprises him-- he didn't realize he had closed them.]

...Oh.

[The word is a sigh; little more than an exhalation of breath. The drink must be finally catching up with him. Now that he's finished playing nursemaid to Travis the intoxication's finally set in, which would explain why his mind feels so stupid and sluggish right now.

He doesn't quite remember a rapidly pounding heart being one of the symptoms, though.]

Shit. That was stupid.

[Travis runs a hand through his hair, nervous: Wade's not looking like he's got much of anything to say to break the tension Travis has just pushed over the edge.

He stares up at Wade apologetically.] You're ok, right?

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never has this icon been more appropriate

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wow strangely appropriate icon is strangely appropriate XD

pffff

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